


Sinners will be Saints

by Yuu_chi



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, M/M, Raven!Neil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:59:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuu_chi/pseuds/Yuu_chi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathaniel Wesninski was raised to be a Raven - and yet in all universes his path leads him to the Foxes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Janie Smalls tries to kill herself exactly three days after meeting Andrew for the first time. The timing is unfortunate; not just because this leaves the team scrambling for a replacement striker, but because it leaves it looking like Andrew is to blame.

Dan calls him to the hospital the next day and Andrew goes. Not because he particularly cares about Janie or because Dan has any kind of control over him, but because he’s mildly curious as to whether this means Janie’s out of the team for good.

He doesn’t even make it to her hospital room before Dan accosts him. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, because there doesn’t seem to be a smoke detector in this section of the corridor and if Andrew is going to have to let Dan yell at him for ten minutes he really could use a cigarette.

“What did you say to her?” Dan demands, positively apocalyptic in her fury. “She was fine last week, Minyard.”

Andrew doesn’t bat an eye and purposefully blows a mouthful of smoke right into her face. “If she was going to break, better sooner rather than later, Captain.”

“She’s a person, not a  _thing_ ,” Dan hisses, and the cold disgust on her face tells Andrew she wants to hit him dearly. Wisely she refrains.

It’s not actually Andrew’s fault but it’s pointless to say as much. When he’d met Janie she’d been a small, shuttered thing. He could see a familiar apathy in her eyes. She was already so gone that it really wouldn’t have mattered what did or did not come out of his mouth at that point.

The rest of the Foxes don’t know that, though, because they’re as blind as they are furious. Andrew can protest all he wants, and it won’t matter. It’s more energy than he has to give, so he just shrugs, taps the ash off the end of his cigarette so it crumbles onto Dan’s shoe, and leaves for the parking lot.

Dan calls after him but even she wouldn’t start a scene in a hospital so Andrew makes it outside unhindered.

Kevin is sitting in the passenger side of the car when Andrew gets there. “How is she?” He asks as Andrew swings into the driver seat.

“Out of the season,” Andrew says as he starts the engine.

Kevin swears; first in English then in French. Andrew pulls out of the parking lot with a shriek and then bangs the glovebox hard with his fist. It falls open and he reaches inside to pass Kevin the half full bottle of vodka in there. Kevin takes it gratefully.

“Wymack will find another one,” Andrew drawls. “And maybe this one won’t have one foot in the grave.”

“There’s not enough time. Anybody who is worth something has already been signed, and moving them and getting them acclimatized to the team and the training will take months.” Kevin has already begun to work himself into a fit. Andrew lets him. “If she’d done this at least a few weeks ago, we’d have been in a much better position.”

“Tell that to Dan,” Andrew says, passing Kevin the cigarette packet from the centre console. Kevin takes it wordlessly, lights one and hands it to Andrew. Andrew sets it between his lips and unwinds the driver’s side window. He sucks in a lungful of smoke and blows it from the corner of his mouth. “She thinks I talked Janie into offing herself.”

“Did you?” Kevin asks, surprised and suddenly aggrieved. “Did you do this just to mess with me?”

Andrew laughs, his medication adding just the perfect touch of hilarity to the accusation. “Even you, Kevin Day, don’t have the kind of influence to incite me to premeditate murder for the fun of it.”

Kevin leans back in his seat, looking unconvinced. The idea that Andrew indulges in murder on a regular basis is not an uncommon one and so Andrew is supremely unbothered by this doubt. He changes gears and lets Kevin sulk in silence.

When they pull up in the parking lot Nicky and Aaron are waiting. Nicky is jumpy on his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets and failing terribly at flattening the worry from his face. Aaron has his phone out and barely seems to be paying attention.

“How is she?” Nicky asks anxiously as Kevin throws open the door and steps from the car.

“Gone,” Kevin says.

Nicky’s face goes white.

“From the season,” Andrew corrects as he climbs out from the driver’s side. “Not from life.”

Nicky heaves a relieved sigh and presses a hand to his chest. “Jesus Christ, Kevin; do you even hear yourself when you speak?” he scolds, but Kevin isn’t listening to him, has already started walking away, pausing only to wait for Andrew to join him.

Andrew takes one last drag from his cigarette and flicks onto the asphalt. He strolls after Kevin and the others fall into step instantly beside him. Across the parking lot a student from their building sees them, recognizes them, and turns around to change direction without so much as breaking stride.

“The news about Janie has clearly gotten around,” Nicky sighs as he pushes open the door to the dorms.

“I don’t really see anything different than usual,” Aaron says, mounting the stairs without missing a beat.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Nicky presses, and he flicks an anxious gaze to Andrew who finds the topic dull and is more focused on tapping his fingers along the stair banister as he walks. Nicky turns his gaze back to Aaron.

“No,” Aaron says, and his tone puts an end to whatever else Nicky wanted to say.

Kevin reaches their floor first, but he stands aside and lets Andrew take the lead down the corridor to the door. Andrew doesn’t bother fishing for his own keys, just holds out a hand as Aaron passes his own over. He unlocks the door.

It takes Andrew all of a second to realize something is wrong. He’s well trained in searching out dark shapes in darker rooms, and the minute he has a clear line of sight he can see an unfamiliar shape at the sofa.

Andrew flings out an arm to block the doorway and Kevin stops just short of running into him. Nicky, walking directly behind him, is not so lucky and rams full into Kevin’s back.

“Jesus, Andrew!” He snaps, hand flying to his nose that had just collided with the back of Kevin’s skull. “What’s the problem?”

Andrew doesn’t turn to look at him, keeping his eyes fixated in the dark of the room. “There’s somebody in here.”

The breath Kevin sucks in is like he’s been punched in the gut. Nicky and Aaron, use to deferring to Andrew in dangerous situations, go deathly quiet and still, waiting.

Andrew gives the situation a beat of a moment to consider things – the four of them had hardly been discreet, but the person hasn’t moved an inch. Not towards them, not away. Andrew doesn’t doubt what he’s seeing, and that means somebody is on their sofa, watching them with unconcerned eyes.

He makes his decision. Without letting any of the others take a single step closer and keeping himself between Kevin and the room all the while, he moves past the doorway just enough to hit the light switch on the wall.

The room goes bright in an instant and the silhouette resolves itself. The first thing Andrew sees is blue; eyes like ice, coolly disinterested even as he sits square in a room he has no business being in, and yet he watches Andrew with a fixated attention that seems more dangerous than it is wary.

The second thing he notices is the number  _3_ beneath his left eye.

He’s a stranger to Andrew, but Kevin is tall enough to see right over Andrew’s head and if the breath he’d taken before had sounded like he’d been punched, the noise he makes right now is like somebody had reached inside of him and stopped his heart.

The stranger on the sofa smiles. It is perhaps the most hideous parody of a thing Andrew has ever seen. “Kevin,” he says, and his voice does not raise but it carries clear across the room. “It’s good to see you again.”

And Kevin says, with a voice that sounds absolutely ragged, “ _Nathaniel.”_

Nathaniel smiles wider and leans forward, arms resting on his thighs casually. “Well,  _that’s_ a name I haven’t heard in a while. You remember me then. It’s been so long, I wasn’t certain you would. I hope you don’t mind the sudden visit. I’d have given you warning but – well, I didn’t want to.”

Andrew doesn’t take his eyes from Nathaniel even as he shifts just an increment to the right so Kevin has to step back. “This door was locked,” he says.

“Your lock is a piece of shit,” Nathaniel says. “If I can get through it in half a dozen seconds, I shudder to think how somebody with intent to kill and a motive might handle it.”

“And you don’t have either of those things?” Andrew asks.

Nathaniel laughs. “Oh, no. I have both of those in spades. Kevin inspires something of a biblical level of irritation with his mere presence alone.” The edges of his smile sharpen. “I’m sure you’d agree with me, wouldn’t you, Andrew?”

Behind him Aaron and Nicky are so still and silent Andrew might think them dead. Kevin is staring at Nathaniel like he can’t believe his own eyes. He doesn’t look scared, exactly, but pained and confused and a little delirious in that way he gets when his old life starts to infringe on his new.

Andrew does not doubt for a second that Nathaniel is from his old life. If not for their interactions, then for the number sunk into his skin.

“I’m flattered you know me,” Andrew says, sounding anything but. “And yet Kevin has never mentioned you before, I’m afraid.”

Nathaniel looks more amused than anything else. “No, I don’t imagine he would have.” His gaze ticks over to Kevin then, and Andrew can physically feel the way Kevin recoils; and then Kevin says something in French.

It’s not the first time Andrew has heard his French, but it is the first time he’s seen somebody answer him. Nathaniel replies easily, the kind of instant reaction based on a long history of language switching. Andrew recognizes it as the way he and Aaron and Nicky talk to one another, the way one of them will jump to German and the others will follows.

“What are they saying?” Nicky whispers behind him, like Andrew is supposed to know. Andrew tilts his head just the smallest bit to give him a flat look.

Kevin’s brow wrinkles. He looks horrifically shaky. Out of the corner of his eye Andrew sees him latching on to Nicky to stay upright. Across the room Nathaniel looks completely at ease, possibly even entertained by the whole thing.

Andrew says, “is he here to take your head back to the Moriyamas?”

Kevin flinches. “He’s…” he breaks off. Andrew tries his hardest not to be annoyed at Kevin’s complete inability not to just shut down when faced with an unfavourable situation. It makes it phenomenally hard to protect him when he becomes as responsive as the paint on the walls.

“Decapitation is messy and unnecessary,” Nathaniel says. “If I were truly here for Kevin I’d have hooked a tripwire explosive to the door or something.”

“Yes,” Andrew agrees, “because blowing people to bits has so much less clean up.”

“Quicker though,” Nathaniel says breezily. “I mean, I haven’t actually tried it myself, but I’d be game to give it a go.” He flicks a look behind Andrew to Nicky and Aaron, and Andrew draws himself up ready, but Nathaniel dismisses them just as quickly. “But no, to answer your question, I didn’t come here to kill anybody.”

“Then there’s not really much point in you staying,” Aaron says, and his voice is edged with enough venom to kill.

“Okay,” Nathaniel says without so much as blinking, “I didn’t come here to kill anybody, but what the hell, plans can change.”

“I’d advise against it,” Andrew drawls, trailing the fingers of one hand lazily along the wall and straightening the wrist of the other, just enough so his knife might slip into his hand with a flick. He suspects the threat is nothing more than sarcasm, but he’s all but conditioned to put a knife to the throat of anybody who even comes close to touching his people. “And if it wasn’t for killing, what  _did_ you come for?”

Nathaniel is watching him, barely concerned with the others in the doorway, barely concerned with  _Kevin._ “I came,” he says, “to ask a favour.”

Kevin makes another of his choking noises. “A  _favour_?” He says  _favour_ like it is more unthinkable than  _murder;_ as if this stranger from his past coming to take his head is that much more reasonable than him coming bearing an olive branch.

Given what Andrew has seen of the Ravens and their methods, he not only understands but whole heartedly seconds it.

“Well Kevin?” Andrew says. “Are you feeling in the mood for granting favours?”

“Oh,” Nathaniel cuts in, “no, sorry. I guess I wasn’t really clear. I’m not here for Kevin at all. Not really, anyway.”

Kevin blinks at him. Andrew cocks his head to the side and studies him with narrowed eyes and slightly raised brows. “ _Well_ ,” he says, “isn’t that a surprise. Who is it then that gets the privilege?”

Nathaniel doesn’t smile this time, but there’s an ironic sort of humour in his eyes, the most genuine thing Andrew has seen from him yet. “Your Coach, I suppose,” he says, “or whoever it is in your ragtag team of psychotic power players that has authority.”

Andrew laughs. Kevin cringes away from him, just a little bit, and then, realizing this has put him closer to Nathaniel, freezes and takes a full step to the side and back, away from the both of them altogether. As this keeps him in Andrew’s line of sight and out of Nathaniel’s, Andrew doesn’t stop him.

“I don’t really think you have the room to be calling anybody else psychotic,” Andrew says, “but why don’t you give me the message and providing it’s interesting enough I might pass it along.”

Nathaniel looks him over for a moment so long that it seems to stretch beneath the weight of it. The blade of Andrew’s knife is pressed at the heel of his palm. Beside him Kevin is barely breathing.

Then Nathaniel smiles a smile that is all teeth. “I heard you’d lost a striker,” he says, “and given that the position is open, I’d like to apply.”  


	2. Chapter 2

Nathaniel has been in Wymack’s office for roughly twenty minutes by the time Wymack comes out.

Kevin had been a mess. He’d sat down, stood up, sat back down, and then stood again. He’d repeatedly paced the room so much that Andrew hadn’t bothered to watch him as he did so because a crick in his neck would have made life very annoying and difficult.

Andrew had sat wordlessly. Kevin wasn’t yet ready to start giving him answers, and Andrew wasn’t about to waste him time pushing for them when the most he’d get was a stop and start sentence about Edgar Allen.

The fact Kevin was sitting outside Wymack’s office with Nathaniel separated from him only by a very thin wall told Andrew enough – whatever Nathaniel was, and Andrew did not doubt that list was long and extensive, he was not an immediate threat.

Dangerous though. Very dangerous. And although Kevin did not seem necessarily _scared_ of him the way he was with Riko or the Ravens as a whole, there was a wariness there that stuck out solidly to Andrew.

Beside him Kevin gets to his feet again, making to resume his pacing, and Andrew says, “no.”

Immediately Kevin sits back down again.

The door opens, then, and Andrew gets the smallest glance of Nathaniel sitting in front of Wymack’s desk before the door closes again. His back is ramrod straight and his hands rest easily on his thighs; what little of his face Andrew sees in the sliver of the closing door is completely unconcerned.

“Why,” Wymack says, looking directly at Kevin, “do you insist on bringing me all your pet psychopaths?”

Andrew figures this is probably a dig at him, but it’s much more entertaining to watch Kevin flinch than to take any sort of offence.

“Nathaniel is – difficult,” Kevin says with supreme effort.

“Well,” Wymack says, “he was on perfect behavior just now. It was very uncomfortable. He also doesn’t like being called Nathaniel, apparently. He asked me to call him Neil.”

Kevin stares at him. “Neil?”

Wymack shrugs. “I wasn’t going to ask him to elaborate. It’s not exactly a farfetched nickname for Nathaniel.”

Kevin looks deeply disturbed. Andrew, who has never thought the Ravens were much the nicknaming type, can understand why.

“What did he say?” Kevin asks. “What did he want?”

Wymack frowns, scratches at his head and glances over his shoulder at the office door. “The exact same thing you told me he did. To join the team.”

“Impossible,” Kevin says instantly. “He’s not a striker. He wasn’t trained to be one.”

Wymack looks at Kevin. “What was he trained for then? I’ve never seen him in the Ravens.”

Andrew does not miss the way Kevin hesitates, the guilt in the defensive set of his shoulders. Suddenly, Andrew is much more invested in the conversation.

“He was supposed to join the team this season,” Kevin says.

Wymack raises a brow. “And obviously that hasn’t happened. They didn’t even announce him.”

“I – Jean mentioned that he left the team almost as soon as I did,” Kevin says guardedly. “After… after.”

Andrew sits straighter in his seat, looks at the way Kevin’s injured hand had twitched reflexively at the memory of the _after_ he’s now living. He thinks of Nathaniel, Neil, whoever, sitting in the dark of the dormroom with ice cold eyes and a number in his cheek.

“That’s awfully convenient timing,” Andrew drawls. Kevin flinches. “If I didn’t know better Day, I might say one had something to do with the other.”

“It didn’t,” Kevin snaps, although he immediately takes a step back away from Andrew as he does. “It didn’t.”

Andrew watches him quietly and Wymack watches the both of them for a long moment before speaking. “That’s all fine and good, but I still have a Raven sitting in my office wanting to become a Fox and neither of you are giving me any ideas for what I should do about it.”

Andrew leans back and stretches out his legs. “That’s really up to Kevin, isn’t it?”

“Well, considering I’m the Coach, I’d say it’s up to me,” Wymack says, but he doesn’t even sound like he means it. He turns to Kevin and raises a brow.

Andrew has never seen Kevin so shaky and he’s seen Kevin through a lot at this point. There’s a twitch in his fingers like he really wants somebody to press a flask into them and his shoulders are settled below his ears like he wants to curl up in a ball and not move ever again.

“Well?” Andrew asks, and he makes sure to draw the word out. It’d take little more than a word for Andrew to get to his feet and make it so Neil would not be gracing any more doorsteps again.

“He’s - he’s not like Riko,” Kevin says eventually, but the way he says it makes it unclear whether that’s better or worse.

“You said he wasn’t originally a striker. Can he learn? Can he play?” Wymack asks.

“Yes,” says a voice behind them, and Wymack and Kevin both jump. Andrew lets his head fall back lazily. Neil is standing in the office door, smiling, smiling, smiling. “Yes, I can play. And I can learn.”

Wymack’s lips thin. “I’m not about to sign you up without ever having seen it.”

“Do you think,” Neil says, “that the Ravens would have ever let me stay if I was anything but incredibly good?”

“And yet,” Wymack says, “they let you walk out the door.”

Neil’s smile grows, as if he finds that statement unbearably hilarious. He looks at Kevin and Kevin looks at him, although Andrew can see that he very much would like to look away. He doesn’t though. Andrew can understand why. There is a draw to Neil that is almost hypnotizing; a danger in the idea of leaving his eyes on your back.

“What do you think Kevin?” He asks, and his voice is sweetly innocent. Kevin looks sick. Neil takes a step forward. Andrew doesn’t tense but he does shift a little in his seat so that he might be in a better position to get up if the need arises. “Do you think they let me walk out the door?”

Wymack turns to face Kevin. He’s about as white as a sheet and just as likely to to crumple.

“Well?” Neil asks.

“He can - he can play,” Kevin says. He tears his eyes away from Neil, refuses to look at Wymack, and instead settles them on Andrew - his only safe spot in the room. “He can play.”

It’s silent for a moment but for the way Kevin’s breathing seems to tremble. Andrew examines him and he finds it’s much the same as he thought. Kevin doesn’t look like he’s actively scared of Neil, so much as he’s terrified of the _possibility_ of him. There’s guilt there, too, and Andrew is more intrigued by that than the fear.

He doesn’t need Kevin’s reactions to know that Neil has all the makings of a monster - it’s the rareness of Kevin’s guilt that has a greater story behind it.

“Are you sure?” Wymack asks Kevin, but he’s looking at Neil thoughtfully. Andrew has, unfortunately, seen that look before. Has felt it on _himself_. It’s the way Wymack gets when he’s feeling out the damaged athletes around him.

Wymack is already wondering if he has the magic to turn a Raven into a Fox.

“He’s sure,” Neil says, and he’s not looking at Kevin or Wymack - he’s looking at Andrew.

Andrew smiles nicely back at him. “Yes?”

“Well,” says Neil, “I figure that’s two out of three votes in my favour here. But seems like your vote counts for the most.”

“I _am_ the Coach, you know,” Wymack says again, but it’s a front more than anything.

Andrew studies Neil silently for a moment - the terrifying ice of his eyes, the blood red of his hair, the cruel lines of his face and then empty smile at his lips. There’s a calculativeness there, but it leans entirely to self preservation rather than manipulation.

Andrew gets to his feet slowly, hands in his pockets. Kevin backs up on instinct, although he takes care to stay nearer to Wymack than Neil.

He walks the handful of space between them, doesn’t stop until he’s right up in front of him, and although it itches to be this near somebody else Andrew doesn’t do more than look at him.

Neil raises his brows, smiles still, and shows absolutely no concern that Andrew is so close that they’re all but breathing the same air. He seems mildly curious at most. He tilts his chin up and looks down at Andrew and his smile grows again at the edges. Andrew gets the impression he might be impressed that he is, for once, taller than somebody.

Other than that though, Neil’s reaction is simple a _non_ reaction. It’s not even that he’s not scared of Andrew and more like he just - doesn’t care.

His eyes, Andrew sees, are so very empty.

“Is there something you need, Andrew?” Neil says pleasantly. “Did you want to go back to back to better compare our height?”

Behind them Wymack snort.

“You’re certain you’re not here for Kevin’s head after all?” Andrew asks. “Not even if you were to accidently acquire it somehow?”

“That’d be one hell of an accident,” Neil says with another one of his more-teeth-than-not smiles, “but, well, if it were to just come into my possession somehow I can’t say I’d waste the opportunity.”

The knife in his hand is second nature to Andrew. Behind them Wymack says, “Andrew, you’re not fucking killing somebody in my office.”

Kevin says nothing.

Neil blinks down at Andrew, allows for Andrew to direct his head to the side with the edge of his knife at his throat. He doesn’t stop smiling. There’s something cool and sharp pressing in at Andrew’s stomach and he can feel it even through his shirt.

“You’re very quick,” Andrew observes and he doesn’t need to glance down to see that Neil has a knife to his gut. He adds silently to his ever growing list of things to be conscious of: _and very good with a knife_.

“We could find out who’s quicker?” Neil suggests, and it sounds less like a threat than it does a fun game. The knife tip digs in just a little, sinks past his shirt to his skin. In return Andrew twists his wrist and the blade catch below Neil’s jaw. A thin line of blood dribbles down his neck.

Neil doesn’t even flinch. Nothing shows in his eyes. Andrew has the thought that he might cut him to little pieces and Neil would still smile at him like he’s having the most fun in the world.

The knife disappears up Andrew’s sleeve and he takes a step back.

“We’re done here,” he announces and he turns to go.

“Hey,” Wymack calls after them, “what am I meant to do with _this_?” He waves at Neil.

Andrew doesn’t stop walking and Kevin falls immediately into step behind him. “Whatever you want,” Andrew says, and then he adds an empathetic, “ _Coach_.”

Wymack sighs and although Andrew isn’t watching, he knows this is the part where Wymack rolls his eyes to heavens and curses ever accepting him into the team.

“Goodbye, Kevin,” Neil calls out, and then, “it was a pleasure meeting you, Andrew. I look forward to working together in the future.”

Andrew will not give him the satisfaction of turning to look back - but he feel the burn of those eyes between his shoulderblades the whole way to the dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow, wow, wow. you guys seem to have liked this more than i thought. thank you all so much for absolutely amazing comments, and just wow - to all the people who came to my inbox to ask about it, thank you so much and i'm sorry it's taken so long for the next chapter (real life getting in the way, yo).


	3. Chapter 3

Back at their room Kevin goes straight to his bed and shows no sign of ever leaving it again.

Andrew, having expected this, sits atop the desk in the next room and smokes steadily out the window. He plans to give Kevin some time for his mental breakdown, and then he’ll draw answers out of him and feed him however much vodka it takes to stop the shakes in his hands.

It’s not a complicated plan, but it’s a good one. The only plan, perhaps, where Kevin and his trauma are concerned.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s from Wymack.

_Neil staying at mine. Dan will talk to him tomorrow about joining the team. I’ll watch him._

The _and you watch Kevin_ is absent but heavily implied - Wymack knows him well enough by now to know watching Kevin is Andrew’s full time occupation and needs no mention.

Andrew blows out the last mouthful of smoke he has, stubs out the cigarette on the windowsill, and reaches for a new one.

The look in Neil’s eyes when he was staring at Kevin had been a complicated thing, and Andrew was still trying to puzzle it out. There was a curiosity there, of course, at seeing Kevin for the first time since he’d left, but there was something else that was harder to place.

It didn’t look like anger, or even some kind of grudge, but it’d been far from benevolent, and given the quickness of Neil’s grip on his knife Andrew was curious what it’d take for that mysterious something to turn to violence.

There’s a knock at the door, even though it’s open, and Andrew lazily flicks his gaze over to see Nicky and Aaron lingering at the threshold.

“So,” Nicky says, and he absently taps his knuckles against the doorframe again in what’s probably a nervous fidget, “Kevin looks like he’s down for the count.” Andrew says nothing, so Nicky keeps on talking. “I mean, understandable, long day and all. But at least he’s alive. I wasn’t sure if you’d be bringing him back with his head still attached or not.”

“Neil apparently has no interest in intentionally acquiring Kevin’s head,” Andrew says, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette.

Aaron raises an eyebrow. “Neil? Is that what we’re calling him now?”

Andrew can’t be bothered to explain so he doesn’t.

“Well,” Nicky says and he strides into the room to plop down on the couch, “at least this way we’ve got a striker. That’s something for Kevin to be grateful for, at least.”

“Given the number in Neil’s cheek I don’t think Kevin is grateful for anything at the moment,” Aaron snorts. “Did you see the way he smiled? Constanty?”

“Oh yeah,” Nicky agrees with a shiver. “That’s the smile of somebody I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. He was hot though.”

Aaron makes a noise.

“What! He was! Look, just because he’s probably a complete psychopath doesn’t mean he’s hard on the eyes.”

“You sicken me,” Aaron says.”And if you make a move on him you’re probably going to get all of us killed.”

“Probably not Andrew though,” Nicky says cheerfully, placing a hand over his heart. “We’ll always live on through him.”

Andrew looks at him blankly. Nicky is unbothered.

“Where is he? I’m assuming you haven’t offed him just yet.” Nicky frowns at him. “Have you?”

Andrew takes a drag of the cigarette, feels the hot ashy feeling of it burning down to the filter. “He’s at Wymack’s for the night.”

“Are you sure that’s smart? Neil could kill Wymack while he sleeps,” Aaron says, but he doesn’t sound like that particularly bothers him.

Andrew sticks his cigarette between his teeth and hops down from the desk. “He’ll manage.”

Nicky watches him as Andrew strides across the room, but he knows better to grab at him as he walks past. “Wait, where are you going?”

Andrew takes one last mouthful of smoke and flicks his cigarette into the bin by the door. “To find some vodka.”

.

Even drunk there wasn’t a lot of information Kevin was willing to part with.

Neil was a gangster’s son that had been leant to the Moriyama’s as collateral, Kevin said, but he wouldn’t clarify _which_ gangster; Neil was loyal to some and dangerous to other, Kevin said, but he wouldn’t clarify where those loyalties lay; Neil and Kevin probably didn’t get along now, Kevin said, but he wouldn’t clarify why that was a ‘probably’ or for what reason they wouldn’t.

Yes, he said however, yes, Andrew should keep an eye on Neil, on Kevin, on them both. Whether Neil’s reasons for coming to the Foxes were as benevolent as he claimed or not, the Ravens were a team raised on blood and that was a habit that was hard to break.

Kevin had eventually staggered to bed and slept restless but unwakeable. Andrew had watched over him all night.

The next morning Kevin has a splintering hangover. Andrew watches him stumble out of his bed at the crack of dawn.

Neil or not, hungover or not, there isn’t much in the world that will keep Kevin from Exy.

Andrew gets up and dresses too. Regardless of the fact he’d spend all of Kevin’s morning practice sitting on the sidelines, today was not the day he was about to start letting him out of his sight.

As they get ready to stumble out the door, Nicky wakes and looks blearily up at them before rolling over to check the time on his phone. “ _Jesus_ \- you’re _still_ doing your practice this morning? What, with a new psycho in our midst?”

Kevin looks at him like Nicky is speaking in tongues. “How does that change practice?”

Nicky blinks at him, squinting. “My god,” he marvels, “you’re serious.” He closes his eyes and rolls over. “Fine, help yourselves. If you die, I get Andrew’s bed. ”

Andrew, who isn’t particularly attached to his bed anyway, shrugs and locks the door behind as they leave.

The drive to the court is quiet. It’s not particularly unusual, but Andrew can see the tense hunch of Kevin’s shoulders out of the corner of his eyes. Probably less to do with his headache than he’d like Andrew to believe.

They have one more week like this before they’re set to move out of the dorms, the season and compulsory morning practice long over, and Kevin had already made it clear that he planned to stay as close to the court as allowed - Abby’s house, in this case.

Neil though, he complicates things.

Andrew slides into a parking space and cuts the engine. For a moment they sit in silence, Kevin’s breathing heavy from tiredness and alcohol and stress. Andrew does not suggest that they go back, because he knows Kevin will not, but he does fantasize about smashing Kevin’s head into the dashboard to knock him out so he can drive them home without complaint.

He wouldn’t, of course, but it’s nice to imagine having an uncomplicated, simple morning.

“Well?” Andrew asks. Kevin throws his door open and hauls himself out. He slams the door behind him loud enough to shake the car, like a drama queen.

Kevin stalks towards the court but pulls up short several paces from the door. Indignant or not, with a Raven haunting their campus, now is not the time for Kevin to start challenging his leash.

Andrew takes his sweet time getting out of the car, triple checks that the car has locked, and then saunters over to Kevin like he hasn’t a care in the world. Kevin’s mouth is tight, but he doesn’t say anything, just fumbles with the keypad by the door (this month’s code is the year Dan became their Captain).

The locker room is cold and Andrew is a little relieved when Kevin finally clangs back out in his gear. Andrew trails after him and claims his favourite bench by the court and is distantly grateful that the season's morning practices are at it’s end. It won’t stop Kevin, naturally, but it matters little to Andrew whether he dozes on a bench or in his bed.

He leans back against the wall as Kevin tromps onto the court with his racquet and a bucket full of balls, setting himself up in front of the goal to practice religiously the way he does. He doesn’t so much glance at Andrew, has given up trying to insist Andrew join him on the court for his morning practices.

Andrew closes his eyes as Kevin starts throwing. So long as the _thump-rattle, thump-rattle_ of the balls hitting the back of the net continues, he knows Kevin is fine.

Time becomes hazy for a little bit, but it can’t have been that much later when Andrew feels something settle on the bench beside him. His eyes slam open and one of the knives in his sleeve slips down to rest at the base of his palm.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees who it is. Slowly, and as seemingly unworried as possible, he turns.

Neil is sitting beside him, a respectable gap between them, hands in his lap and eyes latched onto Kevin. He looks thoughtful, wide awake like it’s not barely past six in the morning, and unconcerned that Andrew is sitting inches away with two knives up his sleeves.

Andrew can’t be certain how long he’s been here, at this court with them, but however long that is, it’s _too long_.

“Morning,” Neil says.

“Neil,” Andrew replies. “What a surprise.”

Neil’s eyes don’t leave Kevin, but the corner of his mouth twitches up in a small shimmer of dry amusement. “Don’t worry, I haven’t been here long.”

Andrew considers that before putting it aside and asking blandly, “did you sleep well?”

Neil makes a small contemplative noise. Andrew can’t figure out if it’s a thoughtful one or detached admiration for the admittedly impressive goal Kevin just scored. “Slept better, slept worse.”

Andrew, who has fallen asleep on Wymack’s couch once or twice, can understand what he means. “A bit early for you to be out.”

Neil finally glances away from Kevin and offers Andrew one of his smiles with no depth to them at all. “I could say the same for you two. Or I would, if Kevin hasn’t been a devoted fan of early morning practices since he was old enough to hold a racquet. I see the injury hasn’t dulled it any. He’d make me run three laps as a warmup before he’d even let me near the ball.”

Andrew thinks about that, tries to imagine Kevin and Neil and Riko playing determinedly together in the coldness of the court before the sun had even risen. It’s amazing to him that there are people out there with that sort of energy, that dedication, when the most Andrew can manage, on or off his meds, is a vague interest bordering on apathy.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you stay off the court for now,” Andrew says.

Neil snorts. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to. I’m ‘behaving’.”

Andrew studies him dubiously. “And behaving is sneaking out of Wymack’s apartment all on your own?”

Neil grins at him. “Trying to behave, then.”

“What are you even here for? Were you trying to catch Kevin practice?”

Neil goes surprisingly silent at that. Andrew watches as his gaze drifts back to the court pensively. One of his hands flutter down from his lap to rub at the bench beside him. It looks surprisingly unconscious in a way Andrew hasn’t seen from him yet.

“Yeah,” Neil says in a way that makes it obvious to Andrew he’s lying. “Yeah, I came here for Kevin.”

Andrew wonders then, if _here_ means this court, or if _here_ means the Foxes. He wonders, also, which part belongs to the lie in Neil’s soft voice, if both of them do.

“Did you want to speak to him?” Andrew offers cheerfully, even though there’s no way he’s letting Neil breathe the same air as Kevin right now.

Neil shakes his head. “I’m _behaving_ ,” he stresses. “And part of that is doing whatever it takes for you to trust me.”

Andrew laughs at that, and it’s not entirely forced. Mean though. But his laugh usually is. “Trust you?”

Neil looks at him. This time he’s not smiling. There’s an earnestness there, but one with more of a basis in reality than naivete. “Yes,” Neil says. “Eventually.”

Andrew’s laugh trails off, and he looks Neil over with renewed interest. “I wouldn’t trust a Raven so long as they’ve got breath in their lungs,” he says and means every word.

Neil does not react. Doesn’t look remotely offended in the least. “Good,” he says instead. “You shouldn’t.” He adds, then, “but I’m hoping that when I’m a Fox, you might be willing to make an allowance for _former_ -Ravens who would sooner die than return to Edgar Allen.”

Andrew scoffs, unmoved. “Nathaniel,” he says, just to see Neil’s barely perceptible flinch, “I don’t even trust the current Foxes.”

Neil doesn’t seem bothered by that either. “We’ll see,” he says quellingly. “We’ll see.”

He gets to his feet then, with one last lingering look over at Kevin who hasn’t even noticed their conversation, and leaves.

Andrew notices that he walks with a hunched back and his hands tucked away. It’s a deliberately careful walk; a practiced causality in the arch of his back and the hands fisted in his pockets, but an innate defensiveness in the crawl of his shoulders below his ears.

Neil does not look back as he rounds a corner and disappears towards the exit and Andrew watches him every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus guys. between the messages and comments the response to this fic has been overwhelming. i'm a little awestruck, and a lot guilty. i've been super busy lately so this chapter got held up, but i've finished university now (like proper finished! i'm graduating! all my work is done! i will never fucking have to write another essay again!!!!) so posting pace should finally pick the hell up. 
> 
> thank you so much, really, for all your responses. i can't even. you're all so lovely.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning dawns with heavy rapping on the door to the dorm. Andrew wakes, alert in an instant even as Kevin doesn’t so much as stir.

 _“I want the lot of you dressed and at the court in half an hour,”_   Dan calls.

That is finally enough to galvanize a reaction from the room at large. Nicky swears, rolls out of his bed and slams his way out of the bedroom. Andrew hears him throw open the front door and immediately launch into an argument.

“Training finished two days! We move out in a week! You can’t be -.”

“That was before we lost a striker,” Dan snaps, and then calls out loudly, “ _get your lot down to the court, Andrew.”_

Andrew hasn’t even had his morning meds yet so can’t even bring himself to be amused by this turn of events. He doesn’t bother answering, and Dan doesn’t bother waiting for a reply before storming off down the corridor. Andrew gets the impression she still blames him for Janie and wonders how long it’ll take her to realize he really doesn’t care.

Nicky slinks back into the room, blurry-eyed and miserable. “At least Kevin will be happy.”

Aaron groans across the room, buried beneath his blankets. “When is getting Kevin awake at this time of morning ever a happy event?”

That at least is a truth Andrew can believe. Given the amount of alcohol Kevin had poured down his throat and the shakes that had only just seemed to abate, he doubts that Kevin is going to be _functional_ let alone _happy_.

It’ll take twenty minutes just to get him awake and out the front door. About the same for Andrew’s meds to truly kick in. And while Andrew himself doesn’t necessarily mind showing up late, he just knows Kevin will be impossible about it when he gets his head on straight.

Andrew gets out of bed and, without a word, reaches around to grab Kevin’s ankles and yank him viciously out of his bunk.

Kevin hits the floor with a grunt and a curse, flailing in his blankets as he blinks up at Andrew in half morning-confusion, and half hungover-delusion.

“On the court in half an hour,” Andrew says, and turns away to find his meds.

.

They get to the court late, but only barely. Kevin has even managed to shake off the weight of sleep and alcohol and hold his head high as they march inside. Andrew wonders how long that spine will last in the presence of Neil.

“About time,” Wymack says as they step into the foyer. “What part of half an hour was unclear to you lot?”

The team is huddled together, dressed in their practice gear and looking surprisingly awake for a bunch of college students who hadn’t thought they’d be stepping back on the court for several more weeks.

Andrew suspects that might have more to do with Neil than anything else, who is wearing a mismatch of gear and weighing up one of the spare practice sticks in his hand, ignoring the lot of them with a kind of ease that is too obvious to be anything but forced nonchalance.

“Oh, Coach,” Andrew says, not quite a laugh as his mania is still a low bubble in his stomach. “You know me and time aren’t on the greatest of terms.”

Wymack doesn’t look impressed and points empathetically to the locker room. “Get dressed, the lot of you. We’re going to do a scrimmage. I need to see how Neil works with the rest of you.”

Seth sneers at that. “Like a Raven knows how to work with anybody.”

“Yes, Seth, but all means, teach the new kid all about teamwork,” Allison says boredly, not looking up from where she’d locked her gaze on Neil’s face.

Seth flushes hotly and open his mouth, but Andrew isn’t interested in sticking around and heads for the locker room, the others at his back.

“Well?” Nicky asks, scrambling to keep up with them. “ _Is_ he good?”

“You’ve seen the number on his cheek,” Kevin says, like that is answer enough.

It is.

Neil is _good_. There’s absolutely nobody who could deny that.

Despite being in unfamiliar gear, in an unfamiliar position, in an unfamiliar court, he _dominates_. He’s whip fast, and vicious without being violent. The Raven in him is unmistakable as he flies across the court - nobody would ever mistake him as being anything else but Edgar Allen trained.

Seth acts like it’s his personal goal to leave Neil bruised black and blue by the time this is over, but despite having several inches and a dozen pounds on him, can’t quite back him into a corner no matter how hard he tries.

At one point, he checks Neil hard enough to slam him into a wall, and Neil barely falters; bounces the ball off the floor and back into his racquet. Even through the mesh of his helmet, Seth looks furious. In contrast, Matt looks positively _delighted_.

Seth had been wrong about the teamwork too, because Neil has only been on the court for twenty minutes and already Andrew can see cohesion where there wasn’t before, and it’s almost entirely down to the sheer synchronization between Kevin and Neil.

It was obvious Kevin and Neil would work well together. Whatever issues they had between them, they were both Raven trained and Exy obsessed. The ball bounced between them with ease, and the rest of the court struggled to keep up in their fury not to be left behind.

It was a wise move on Wymack’s part to put Neil and Kevin together for the scrimmage, and by the sidelines he was watching with a hand folded under his chin and a thumb passing over his mouth in a thoughtless gesture.

In the goal, there’s not much for Andrew to do. Nobody’s taking any serious shots, and he wouldn’t care if they were. He leans on his stick and watches as the Foxes give chase.

Eventually, Wymack calls an end it and the Foxes rocket to a stop.

The teams as a whole waste no time stripping out of their helmets and bulky gloves, dropping them to the floor with a groan or tucking them under their arm.

Matt tosses aside his stick and goes right for Neil, and for one hopeful moment Andrew thinks he’s going to take a swing at him. Neil must think so too, because he goes stiff instantly, braces himself with the ease of long practice.

Instead, Matt grabs him by the shoulders, grin as wide as his face and says, “ _that was amazing!_ ”

Neil stares at him blankly, chest still heaving a little from the exhaustion. He looks strangely blindsided by the compliment, which anybody who knew Matt Boyd could have told him with was coming.

Andrew supposes there’s not a lot of positive reinforcement in the Raven ranks, but Neil’s reaction is still interesting enough to be notable.

“I - sorry?” Neil says.

Matt drops his hands from Neil’s shoulders and runs them excitedly through his own sweaty hair. “Incredible,” he insists, “it’s like you were born for the court.”

Seth shoulders Neil aggressively as he walks past. “Chill out, Boyd. He wasn’t _that_ good.”

Matt looks at him incredulously. “ _Wasn’t that good?_ He just wiped the floor with you, Gordon.”

Seth looks ready to snarl, but Dan gets in between them, holds a hand up in both of their faces to head off what might otherwise lead to bloodshed. Neil takes what seems like an instinctive step back, still looking confused and wary.

It’s quite the difference from his usual carefully amused face, but he quickly manages to school it back into something blank.

“Enough,” Dan says. “Neil isn’t an opponent, Seth, you don’t need to be picking a fight with him.”

“Well, he’s certainly not a fucking teammate,” Seth spits. “Unless we’re making a habit of picking up the Raven’s second-best dropouts.”

Kevin, who had been carefully standing to the side in an uncharacteristic moment of quiet, grimaces a little but manages to hold back a flinch. Andrew, who is growing tired of this, slams his stick into the goal hard enough to echo in the court.

“This is taking all day,” he says as everybody jumps and faces him, “are you lot adopting him or not? Decide quickly, the spot I’ve picked for his body won’t be available long.”

He sets aside his stick then, and swaggers over to Kevin, stripping off his gloves and helmet as he goes. Some colour seems to return to Kevin’s face with the increase in proximity.

Wymack sends Andrew an irritated glare and turns back to Dan. “This was your try out, Captain,” he says.

Dan’s mouth pinches and she looks at Neil thoughtfully. He’s cold eyed again, but pink faced and sweaty in his gear. There’s a fever in his cheeks that Andrew recognized in Kevin’s some days, like the court had given him a high he was struggling to come back down from.

“Neil isn’t just our best option,” Dan says after a moment, “at this point, he might be our _only_ one.”

Seth explodes. “ _This is bullshit -.”_

“Gordon,” Wymack snaps, finally hitting his drama threshold for the day. “Enough. This isn’t your choice.”

“Coach -.”

“To the change rooms, everybody but Kevin and Dan,” Wymack says, and Seth looks like he’s still spoiling for a fight, but about the only person in the team in the habit of challenging Wymack is Andrew, and he’d much rather see how this plays out.

The team files out; Seth with one last disgusted look at Neil, and Aaron with a lingering glance at Andrew. He gives him a dismissive wave.

Asking Kevin anywhere was always with the added understanding of ‘ _and Andrew._ ’

Neil glances between the few of them left at the court consideringly.

“That means you too, runaway,” Andrew adds helpfully.

Neil gives him a thin smile. “I wouldn’t dare intrude on a discussion about my own future,” he says faux-politely, and heads in the direction of the changing room without another word.

Andrew stares after him, brows raised. He’d expected more of a fight out of him, and he doesn’t know whether the lack of one makes Neil more or less interesting.

Wymack gives Neil a head start to the door, and then points between Dan and Kevin. “This is an issue for the two of you to sort out,” he says, suddenly serious. “Dan, you’re the Captain, and Kevin, you know the Ravens and Neil. I’m washing my hands of this mess.”

What he means, of course, is that he trusts his Foxes to know what’s best for themselves and the team. It’s a blind, stupid trust that is going to get the man killed one day. Andrew’s warned him about that much before.

Wymack turns and goes, leaving the three of them on the court.

Dan wastes no time and rounds on Kevin the instant the door closes behind Wymack. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Kevin’s mouth thins. “He’s not that kind of Raven.”

Andrew laughs, pats Kevin consolingly on the shoulder. “Kevin,” he says cheerfully, “there’s only _one_ kind of Raven.”

It’s an over simplification maybe, but Dan, who has seen the hell Edgar Allen put Kevin through, doesn’t disagree with him.

Kevin chooses his next words with the care of somebody who is aware that the secrets on their tongue do not belong to them. “Nathaniel - _Neil_ \- did not choose that life for himself.”

There are many things that one might read from that, but Andrew just offers, “neither did Riko, if you want to be technical about things, Day.”

Kevin turns on him. “Don’t compare the two of them,” he says viciously. “Neil isn’t the same as Riko.”

A slow grin spreads across Andrew’s face, unstoppable and probably maniacal. “Then why are you so afraid of him?”  

Kevin looks stunned and Andrew can’t help but cluck in disappointment. If Kevin hadn’t expected him to pick up on that, he either thought Andrew dumber than he was, or a better actor of himself.

“It’s clear as day, Day. It looks like it hurts you to even look at him, and I’m wondering what that’s all about. Survivor’s guilt, maybe? Concern for the chicks you left behind in the Nest?”

Kevin’s gone pale, eyes wide and mouth jammed shut like he never plans to open it again. It wouldn’t particular bother Andrew one bit.

Dan looks curiously between the two of them, but it becomes apparent pretty quickly that Kevin’s been struck speechless and Andrew is quite content to let the chatter end there. She sighs, scrubs a hand through the mess of her hair and glares at the both of them.

“He’s good,” she says begrudgingly, “better than Janie was, better than half of us are. It’d be not only to dumb to let the kind of talent go, but suicidal. Our game would go down in flames.”

“It might be just as suicidal to let him stay,” Andrew points out cheerily.

Dan doesn’t balk. Andrew has to give her credit for that. She doesn’t like him, never has and never will, but she doesn’t let it colour the vision she has for the team.

“If Kevin says he’s not trouble, then he can stay.”

“Oh, Dan, weren’t you listening? Kevin never said he wasn’t _trouble_ \- just that he wasn’t _Riko_.”

Dan’s mouth is firm but she doesn’t flinch, just turns to Kevin. “Well?” She prompts.

Kevin blinks at her for a moment, but finally seems to come back to earth. “He’s not a danger to us.”

Andrew can’t help but hear a certain emphasis on the word _he_ , but it unsurprisingly flies right by Dan.

“We’re signing him then,” she says simply. “And if there’s any history between the two of you that needs to be sorted, you better do it before you set foot on my court.”

She turns and leaves then, without a word of goodbye, and Andrew watches her go amusedly.

Kevin stares for a moment after her, like he’s deciding whether this conversation is going to be one he regrets, but takes a deep breath and bends to begin picking up his things. Andrew gives him the pretence so he can paste himself back together again.

When they leave the court, they find Neil sitting on a bench by the change rooms, freshly showered and damp haired. He cranes his head to look up at the sound of them approaching and gives a sweet smile. “Well?”

Andrew smiles right back, the one that he knows makes people take a step back. Neil doesn’t even flinch.

“Nathaniel,” he says, drawing the word out and opening his arms wide, “welcome to your new home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmhm yeah this chapter has been a long time coming. if anybody's still interested in this fic after almost a year, i'd be surprised, but my motivation has recently come flying back now that things in life have settled down, and i'm excited to be back to writing about our favourite assholes!!


	5. Chapter 5

Neil all but disappears after passing Dan’s trial.

Andrew knows he’s sleeping on Wymack’s couch only because Wymack tells the team as much, but the Foxes see neither hair nor hide of him in the days that follow. Andrew has to admit it’s not a bad choice on Neil’s part, considering the upperclassmen are positively itching to get their hands on him. Andrew’s still considering his options, but once he figures them out Neil probably won’t want to be within a hundred-yard radius of him.

Still, his absence makes the shift from the dorms to Abby’s easier. Without Neil hovering in the corner of his vision, Kevin is more willing to let Andrew call the shots again, and the move goes off without a hitch. It’s more than Andrew could have dreamt of when it comes to Kevin ‘Drama Queen’ Day.

The calm doesn’t last forever. It’d be boring if it did. They’ve got weeks with Andrew’s lot and Neil caged up in the same general place, and it’d take a better man than Andrew to keep the lot of them in line.

Kevin approaches him after a week of relative silence, and Andrew is honestly impressed that he’d managed to hold out that long. It’s late, just the two of them in Abby’s back garden while Aaron and Nicky are out, and Kevin’s timed his little intervention just as Andrew’s coming off his meds for the evening.

It’s possible he thinks Andrew might be more agreeable without his mania driving him to seek amusement in Kevin’s exasperation. Andrew cannot wait to prove him wrong.

“We need to practice with Nathaniel,” he says, no beating around the bush at all. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Andrew’s sitting on the edge of one of Abby’s ginormous garden planters smoking like a chimney and doesn’t appreciate Kevin looming over him like he is, especially with the scratchy edge the world always gets when the meds are thin in his blood.

“Who?” He asks, blowing a mouthful of smoke into Kevin’s face.

Kevin wrinkles his nose in disgust but doesn’t rise to the bait. “Neil,” he says, a little bitingly. “It’s been long enough. We need to see what we can do with him.”

“ _We_ ,” Andrew says boredly, flicking ash into the garden soil, “don’t have to do anything. You don’t have command over me, Day. Don’t ever make that mistake.”

Kevin’s mouth thins and he looks like he wants to argue, but he knows better than to fight Andrew on Exy by now. It’s one of the many battles he’s always destined to lose. “ _I_ need to see what Nat - _Neil_ \- can do. He’s one of the best players in college Exy, but he was trained as a backliner. If he’s going to be a striker, I need to start fixing that now before the season starts.”

Despite himself, Andrew’s interest is piqued. ‘One of the best players in college Exy’ is a big compliment coming from Kevin Day, possibly the biggest he’s ever heard him pay anybody. And Kevin Day does not butter people up, deals solely in facts the way Andrew does with truths. He wonders if Neil is aware just how highly Kevin thinks of him.

Andrew grinds his cigarette out on the planter edge and pretends to consider it. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Neil?”

Kevin’s mouth jams closed again, which is beginning to be an irritating habit. When it comes to getting anything related to Edgar Allen out from him, it’s like pulling teeth. What little details Andrew knows were given to him in the first few days of Kevin arriving, when he was pained and broken and very, very drunk - just as desperate, too. Willing to say _anything_ to get Andrew’s protection.

Now though, he’s not much in the mood for sharing. It gives a low spark of annoyance to Andrew’s gut because he’s not precisely asking for the fun of it. If he’s protecting Kevin, he needs to know what it’s _from_.

Andrew flicks the butt of his cigarette at Kevin’s sneakers and gets to his feet, stretching. “I guess the answer’s still no, then,” he informs him cheerily, and leaves Kevin behind to sulk in the garden.

.

Andrew waits a couple more days before making his move. He’s not Kevin, doesn’t make his choices based on momentary impulse. When Andrew decides something, he makes sure to think out every possible step, every possible outcome, and plan accordingly.

Wymack is over at Abby’s for dinner, and Aaron and Nicky are both home. The house is full of potential babysitters, and Kevin is content to stay in for the night and watch Exy on television with a mostly full bottle of vodka.

Still, Kevin frowns when Andrew comes downstairs with his jacket and car keys and makes a move to get up even though he’s already half sloshed.

Andrew presses him back into the couch as he passes. “Stay.”

Kevin’s face morphs into confusion. “Where are you going?”

Andrew gives him a cool look and turns his attention to Nicky and Aaron who are watching the both of them with quiet frowns. “Make sure he doesn’t leave the house.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything, just narrows his eyes further, but Nicky, who is finally starting to learn it’s useless to press Andrew once he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to talk, says, “are you going to be home for dinner? Pretty sure Abby’s trying to impress Wymack; she’s making pie from scratch.”

“Sounds delightful,” Andrew drawls. “Don’t eat all of it.”

“What -.”

Andrew cuts Kevin off with another look. “Don’t leave the house, and keep your phone on you.”

He goes then before the others can try and say something else. He passes the kitchen on the way out, catches the smell of something sweet enough to make his stomach notice and take interest, but doesn’t stop. He’s out the door before Wymack and Abby can even realize he’s leaving.

The drive to Wymack’s is short and quiet, and when Andrew pulls into the parking lot he can see the whole building is bathed in darkness. The chances of a nosy neighbour sticking their head out and getting involved is slim to none.

He meets nobody in the halls, and when he reaches Wymack’s apartment there’s no light leaking under the door. Andrew swings the spare key he’d stolen from Abby’s around his finger for a moment before he unlocks the door and slips inside.

It’s not the first time he’s been inside Wymack’s apartment, and he’s surprised to find that it’s a little tidier than he ever remembers it being. There’s still dishes scattered about, but they’re in stacks, and the ashtrays seem to be mostly empty. Either Neil has a nervous cleaning habit or Wymack’s decided to start picking up in the presence of company.

On the sofa there’s an over fluffed pillow and a blanket folded with army-like precision. There’s no bag though, nothing that indicates that Neil has spent the past week living on the battered three-seater.

Andrew leaves the lights off, enough of it spilling in from the outside streetlamps, and gets to work.

The living area is first; methodically torn apart and put back together again with an ease Andrew is long accustomed to. He finds nothing but a rogue twenty dollars down the back of one of the squishy armchairs which he pockets without a thought. The kitchen is equally empty, discovers nothing more than a bowl of fresh fruit which he notices only because he hasn’t seen Wymack eat an apple in all of their acquaintance.

In the hallway, there’s two rooms left for him to consider. Wymack’s and his office, and Andrew discards the first option almost thoughtlessly.

To say he trusts Wymack would be stretching the truth, but he respects him enough to know where the man has drawn iron boundaries that Andrew shouldn’t cross unless he’s seriously considered the consequences. Besides, from what he knows about both Wymack and Neil, he finds the likelihood of Neil storing anything of importance to him in another person's territory slim to none, nor that Wymack himself would welcome the intrusion on the one place he has to himself on the whole of the campus.

The office though; that’s fair game.

The door isn’t locked, and when Andrew slips inside it’s much as he remembers it being. Folders everywhere, paper piled high. A computer that looks older than Andrew sits miserably in the middle of the desk.

When Andrew goes to the filing cabinet, all of the drawers slide open but the bottom one.

He pauses and smiles something that is icy cold and entirely made of teeth.

 _Found it_.

Andrew knows how to pick locks on technicality only. He could try, but he doesn’t have the tools or the time. He considers his options and decides that since he had no plans to make a secret of his visit, he doesn’t mind leaving behind evidence.

He takes a breath, braces himself with his considerable muscles, and yanks the drawer hard enough that the lock snaps with a pathetic _click_.

If Wymack and Neil had truly been concerned about privacy, they should have invested in a filing cabinet that didn’t look like it’d come out of a second-hand shop ten years ago.

Andrew’s hand is a little numb and his knuckles scraped from where the handle of the drawer had bounced off them, but he barely notices it as he squats down and peers inside. There’s nothing in the drawer but a battered duffle bag he can remember seeing slung over Neil’s shoulder.

Andrew pauses for a moment but the apartment remains steadily quiet. From what Wymack had let slip, Neil’s usually not back from his runs for another half hour or so. Andrew has plenty of time.

He settles on the floor, pulls the bag into his lap, and sorts through it.

Most of it is boring. A small collection of untidy clothes that Andrew dismisses thoughtlessly. There’s a toiletry bag with bare essentials, and, Andrew notices with more interest, several small boxes of hair dye of a variety of colours.

What really gets his attention though is a slim, white binder than looks like it’s followed Neil since the day he set foot out of the Raven’s door.

It takes Andrew only a minute to go through it, and once he’s done he goes through it a second time more thoroughly. It raises more questions than it answers, really, but Andrew’s found the closest thing to gold Wymack’s shitty apartment has ever seen.

He tucks the binder under his arm, tosses the rest of Neil’s things back in the drawer, and goes to wait on the couch.

.

Andrew has only been waiting fifteen minutes or so when Wymack’s door finally creaks open and Neil steps inside. He doesn’t go for the lights and he doesn’t look surprised to see Andrew sitting on the couch. He’d noticed Andrew’s car in the barren parking lot then.

He stands in the doorway to the living area and makes no move to approach Andrew, just hovers there with one hand on the wall and the other by his hip where Andrew suspects he keeps his knife.

He’s sweaty from his run, red hair tumbling down over the ice of his eyes and his mouth pinched furiously. Andrew has rattled him enough that he can’t quite manage his usual blank indifference. Possibly, Neil isn’t as good of an actor or as calm of a person as he’s been trying to sell himself as if all it takes is Andrew stepping into his territory unannounced to get to him.

“Neil,” he says, arms open in greeting. “Where have you been? Your mother and I were worried sick.”

Interestingly, Neil stiffens up a little at that. Andrew files that away for later, to try and figure out which part of Andrew’s little prod had gotten him so defensive.

“Minyard,” he says, only it sounds more like a threat than a greeting.

“I came all the way out here to visit you, the least you can do is welcome me.”

“I can’t help but notice you timed it for when Wymack would be out,” Neil observes. “That doesn’t seem like the actions of somebody who wants to be welcomed.”

Andrew presses an offended hand to his heart. “Are you implying that I’m suspicious? Untrustworthy?”

Neil doesn’t answer him, just continues to stare at him with careful eyes. Andrew lets his face break into a grin.

“In that case,” he says, finally holding up Neil’s binder, “you’ll be thrilled to know you’re right.”

The change is instant. Neil goes as still as a statue, doesn’t even breathe. Any control seems wiped clean off his face. For a moment, the silence sits between them, heavy and thick, and when Neil speaks, his voice is hoarse, “you had _no_ right.”

Andrew gets to his feet, tucks the binder under his arms as he swaggers over. Neil watches him approach with a kind of distance to him that makes Andrew wonder if Neil is even entirely present right now. “You’re the one who came to my team,” Andrew reminds him, “and didn’t even have the gall to pretend you weren’t a threat.”

“To Kevin,” Neil corrects. “That I wasn’t a threat to Kevin. And that binder has nothing to do with him.”

“I don’t think so, little red,” Andrew says, “considering it’s his face you’ve got plastered over more pages than I can count.”

Neil’s eyes spark again at that, a fire beyond that total emptiness, and for a second it looks like Neil plans to tackle him for the binder. He doesn’t. Andrew is impressed, just a little. Neil has the look of somebody who is used to starting fights but being unable to finish them.

“Kevin and I once belonged to the same team,” Neil says instead, his voice surprisingly level. “Is it so wrong to want to keep track of him?”

It’s not that Andrew thinks he’s lying exactly, but that it’s an incomplete truth at best. “Do you have a folder for each of your teammates, then?” Andrew asks. “Is there one for Riko too?”

Neil twitches, just a little, but he’s clawing some control back and seems unwilling to give it up. “If I never see Riko’s face again, I will die happier than you know,” he says.

“That seems unlikely. Exy is a small world, Nathaniel.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” Neil hisses, and his temper finally snaps enough that he reaches out to swipe the binder from Andrew.

Andrew, who is not stupid, easily dodges out of the way, backs up a step and then rounds on Neil suddenly so that Neil has no choice but to stumble back into the wall or risk having Andrew in his personal bubble.

“While we’re on the topic of what to call you,” Andrew says pleasantly, “let’s discuss the matter of your ID’s I found in that folder too.”

Neil opens his mouth to say something, but Andrew doesn’t wait, doesn’t plan to be waylaid by lies.

“Kevin calls you Nathaniel, but all the bits of paper in there call you Neil Josten - who, according to your driver’s license, should have brown hair and brown eyes.” Andrew reaches up and tugs a little bit at the auburn of Neil’s hair, and Neil does a very good job of pretending not to flinch. “Somebody’s lying, don’t you think? And consider your next words very carefully before you open your mouth.”

Neil stares up at him mutinously, takes a deep breath in and lets it out just as slowly. Up close, Andrew notices what he’s suspected the other couple of times he’d seen him - that Neil has a singularly striking face.

“Kevin’s not wrong,” Neil says after a moment. “But when I left Edgar Allen, I didn’t exactly bring my birth certificate with me. I’ve…” He pauses, considers his words visibly. “Been living under different names for a while. It just so happens that my last lot of identification is for Neil Josten.” He manages a smile this time, and there’s that cruel blankness that Andrew’s come to know. “Wymack’s calling Edgar Allen to have my transcript and official identifications forwarded so I can sign with the Foxes legally, but I have to admit, I’m fonder of the name _Neil_ than I am of _Nathaniel._ ”

Andrew stares at him. Outside there’s the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot, and the headlights manage to wash through the windows even though they’re high from the ground. Neil holds his head high and stares back, even as he keeps his back flat to the wall.

“Kevin says you left the Ravens soon after him,” Andrew observes.

Neil looks momentarily surprised, but a second later his face morphs into a truly chilling grin. It’s not the kind of smile that one could fake. Andrew knows this intimately because he perfected it himself some years ago.

“Does he?” Neil asks.

“The funny thing is,” Andrew continues, “he’s been very vague on the details of _how_ or _why_.”

Neil actually laughs at that, and it’s a horrible sound. “I’ll bet he is.”

“There’s close to a year between you leaving the Ravens and you turning up on our doorstep,” Andrew says. “That’s a lot of time to be unaccounted for. I can’t help but wonder what you might have been doing that would cause you to run to your rival team with a fake ID, three sets of clothes and close to half a million dollars in cash.”

“You found the cash?” Neil says, sounding unsurprised. “That would have been a better lead than the articles in there on Kevin, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care if you’re a multimillionaire, _Josten_ \- my concern is more on where you stand in the mess between Kevin and Riko.”

That wipes the smug smile from Neil’s face. Outside, Andrew can hear heavy footsteps on the stairs. It sounded like Wymack was finally back from Abby’s, and if he was at least half as bright as their favourite new striker, he’d seen Andrew’s car in the lot and put two and two together.

Andrew pushes off the wall and backs up a few steps away from Neil. Neil watches him go dispassionately. “It seems daddy’s home early and we’re running out of time to play,” Andrew says. “So I’m going to ask you two things, and how you answer them will decide whether you stay on this team or I send you back to the Raven’s in several boxes.”

Neil’s eyes narrow at the implied threat, but he doesn’t do much more than straighten up against the wall. “What’s the first?”

“Kevin says you’ve got pre-existing loyalties that you won’t break; do one of them belong to the Moriyama's?”

“No,” Neil says, absolute and without hesitation. His eyes are clear when he looks at Andrew, and for once Andrew gets the impression he’s not lying. “Whatever is between me and the Moriyama’s, you can rest assured that it’s nothing even approaching loyalty. What’s the second question?”

There’s the rattle of keys in the front door. Andrew’s running out of time. He gives Neil a once over and offers him his most dangerous smile. “Kevin’s getting insufferable about the distance I’m keeping between the two of you, but before I let you two close together, I need to take you to Columbia. Yes or no?”

This time Neil’s actually surprised. Whatever he’d thought Andrew was going to ask, it certainly wasn’t that, and he has to take a moment to blink at him.

Andrew hopes that Neil makes the mistake of thinking that this is a peace offering; it’ll make it much more amusing when he learns what Columbia entails when it comes to Andrew and his lot.

The front door slams open and Wymack calls out, absolutely furious, “ _Andrew Joseph Minyard, if I don’t see you out this door in the next five seconds, we’ll find out how many contracts we can fit in a paper shredder at once_.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow at Neil. “We’re out of time Nathaniel; Columbia, yes or no?”

Neil pauses for a moment longer before he says, “Yes.”

“Good,” Andrew says. “Maybe you’re not entirely stupid. We’ll pick you up Friday; try and convince your babysitter to let you out for the night.”

He tosses Neil his binder and Neil fumbles, startled, but catches it. He stares at the binder, then at Andrew, like he can’t honestly believe he’d gotten it back without bloodshed. With nothing left to say, Andrew turns and goes, brushes past Wymack as he comes into the living room and offers him a smart salute. “Coach,” he says, making a beeline to the door.

“Minyard! Get back here!”

Andrew’s already out the door, but he faintly hears Neil saying, “It’s fine, Coach. I’m fine. He just wanted to chat.”

“Friday, runaway,” Andrew calls over his shoulder, “be ready.”

He hears Wymack make a furious noise, but the door slams closed over the tail end of Andrew’s name and he heads down the stairs quick enough that he’ll be long gone before Wymack decides whether it’s worth it to chase him.

Andrew has places to be. He has a phone call to make and a night out to plan. He thinks of the few shirts he’d dug up from Neil’s bag and adds another chore to the list; and a former Raven to dress.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy heck, this is possibly the fastest i've ever updated. i wouldn't get too used to it knowing me, but i'm still full of energy for this fic. i was surprised how many of you were still interested, so here's to hoping i can keep you all around for a little while yet!

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes it is me again, the one who had been flooding the foxhole court tag with bizarre snippets. behold, the formerly raven!neil au I would not shut up about. 
> 
> find me on tumblr as glenflower!


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